


Compressed

by kid_n_the_hall



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Sexual Tension, bow chicka wow wow, plotless smut, there's a reason 4 of 5 of my Harry Potter fics evolved around broom closets, yes I'm that dorky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kid_n_the_hall/pseuds/kid_n_the_hall
Summary: They hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t thought this through. Both of them coiled so tightly by this unresolved tension, being alone and too close.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was whining and complaining about my writing being 1. shit 2. nonexistent, my friend got fed up, gave me a deadline and forced me to smut, and well, there is a little bit of that.  
> Also, it is still Phryne's birthday somewhere, and for that occasion a bit of smut is basically required right?  
> (Pardon my grammar. And pardon the rating, it is probably "just" M but I'd like someone telling me in an extremely specific way: "if these words are included rate your work E".)

He stepped in with such a hurry, back first, that he almost rammed her over. She could feel his tiny neck hairs briefly against her nose, her lips almost making contact with his neck. To steady herself she grabbed whatever she could, one hand closing on his tricep, the other finding comfort with his waist and ribs. Her breasts brush over his upper back. His breath transforms abruptly, to a silent grumble, and she’s surprised the underlying attraction causing his discontent doesn’t at least crease the compact darkness ever so slightly.

They hadn’t thought this through. _He_ hadn’t thought this through. Both of them coiled so tightly by this unresolved tension, being alone and too close. Too close for comfort, or just close enough for comfort but not for sanity. And the being alone and too close in this laughably small cupboard was really just a knife edge pressed to a frayed string pulled taut. It suited her perfectly he presumed, there didn’t seem to be anything that amused her as much as pushing his buttons. Or limits. She never did more than that however, always leaving the last step to bridge the gap between them to be his decision, his choice. _Choice._ How long would it remain a choice? He'd started to feel betrayed by himself more often as of late.

Her warm breath is on his neck, he’s holding his. Almost anyway, as he realises he’s afraid that too deep breaths and too much expansion of his ribcage will lead to further disturbance of his back by her bosom. Christ, he should’ve brought a constable along for this stake out, not her. This is absurd. This is too important to be overturned by his inability to remain unaffected in her presence, he needs sharp senses. But most of his senses were at the moment ignoring all other input in favour of Phryne. As she sighs and shifts infinitesimally, he struggles to remember why they haven’t already...why they _shouldn’t._ Her scent is now taking over the entire space, which isn’t really that remarkable since it’s tiny. But, nonetheless, fucking hell.

So, here they are, in the middle of a dockside cottage, head quarters utilised by four organisations deciding to make joint venture of their foul play. And, judging by the sounds now emanating from two doors down, it also serves as ground for, uh, recreation between operations.

She leans in. Of course she does, her breath moving from his neck via his ear, _ohdearlord,_ to his cheek. Her breasts not just touching his shoulder blades but are fully pressed into them. His knees would like to go on strike but he forces them not to by tensed thighs and abnormally straight posture. She isn’t normally this tall is she?

“You’re awfully quiet” a warm breeze of words ghosting over his face.

“Are you standing on something?”

“What? Er, yes, there are some boxes stacked away here, I had to climb one to make room for you, why?”

“Oh. No, no reason” it’s just that your darned glorious mouth is on level with mine and that is taking up about three quarters of my brain’s capacity at the moment. He all but snorts when he thinks about her response if he’d said that out loud. As if it’s funny. It’s not. Since he can guess pretty accurately what her answer would be and he doesn’t know if it scares him or quite the opposite.

Ah, terrific, the noises from the room down the hall escalates in both frequency and volume, the couple are really starting to enjoy themselves. Or at least the lad is and the girl’s somewhat leaning towards positive. Suddenly very thankful for the lack of light, Jack feels that the sight of his reddened ears isn’t something he wishes to provide Phryne with. When thumping and creaking are added as extra spice to the session engaging their unwitting company, Phryne’s unable to contain a string of giggles and she squeezes his arm and rests her chin on his shoulder. The rounds of her bosom still firmly pushed against him, he can’t keep the vision of diamante covered nipples out of his head any longer. He huffs, less than pleased with himself, and tries to figure out how to adjust his trousers without giving away exactly why. The moaning and thumping are continuous, at least the man has stamina where he may lack finesse, but in Jack’s experience that isn’t really a quality to strive for.

“I’m starting to think this is more of a chore rather than a passionate merge” Phryne says with a hushed breath that has little hairs along his spine standing up in rapid sequence.

“Pardon?” he snorts, and tries to control the currents travelling from his core to his loins.

“Well, he sounds more like he’s hoisting crates onto a truck, and she, she’s got acting skills enough to fool him, but...”

Jack coughs.

“Hush, they’ll hear us” she places a hand over his mouth that he removes as quickly.

“I’m quite certain they won’t, and if they did they might finally stop and no one would be more grateful than me.”

“She might” she giggles, “she’s made the exact same sound since the thumping began, she must be getting sore, if not her vocal chords then presumably her...”

“Miss Fisher!” His ears are now so hot it wouldn’t surprise him if they’re actually glowing.

“You’re not embarrassed are you, Jack?”

“I’m a grown man...” he can feel her piercing eyes on him through the dark.

“...and you’re not likely to blush, yes, yes, I know. Don’t worry, I won’t babble.”

He can imagine her smug smile vividly.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d find several correction methods I respond to, keenly, if you’d only use your imagination.”

He can practically hear the devilish glint in her eyes echoing in her words.

“Are you ever not talking?” he laughs bitterly, wishing he’d been able to hide the edge in his voice. This veil of self deprivation is starting to wear thin.

“Well, there are a few things on record that qu...”

He spins around, almost knocks her over a second time this evening, steadies her with one hand on her arm and one around the nape of her neck. With his mouth moulded to hers, he notes that he found one of the things that silences her. She breaks the kiss with a hum and a chuckle, he can feel her wide smile before she matches the kiss with another while snaking her hands under his jacket and waistcoat to the small of his back, pressing herself to him, sighing almost in relief. He dares to venture with a hand to her back and down, as he suspected her bottom feels even more divine than it looks in those break-and-enter-pants she’s wearing.

A loud bang pops their bubble of bliss, a door forcefully closed, a car driving away.

“Did they leave?” she asks as they pant in unison. The house is now quiet, no wails, no creaking springs. Jack is suddenly extremely aware of the pert buttock heating his right hand, he’s paralysed for a moment before peeling his hand off her.

“Right” he places an ear to the door “not a sound. “ He slowly, slowly pushes the door open, it’s dark in the hallway, not dark enough, Jack thinks, as they can see each other perfectly fine once they’re out of the closet.

“What now?” she demands, looking at him like nothing’s out of the ordinary, like his world hasn’t just treacherously tilted. She bites down an amused twitch of a lip.

“What?” he asks in return, feeling rather obtuse, desire still flooding his mind. She licks her thumb and reaches for him.

“You’ve got something, just here...” she wipes his upper lip and then his chin, lipstick he presumes, her eyes on him are so tender they make him itch. Their timing’s awfully off, just as they sway towards each other an approaching engine startles them, and another moment is stolen.

“We should get out, we’ve been here too long already” Jack turns on his heels, aiming for the door in the back through which they came, assuming Phryne to follow right behind. Once seated in his car he realises she did, of course, not. He curses her, himself, somehow even Collins, not sure why but he probably deserves it. Where the hell is she!? These are decidedly not fellows you’d like to get caught red-handed by. He’s just getting out of the car to go back when she slides in, out of breath.

“Got the ledgers!” She beams triumphantly “but, uhm, you should step on it, now!” she nods at the accelerator and then the door to the cottage. As he turns on the engine and gets them going with a flying start, two men comes barging out, yelling and waving their guns before taking aim. Jack barely makes a sharp turn around a warehouse when shots are fired, a metallic ping confirming at least one bullet grazed the car. He curses once more. No, not once more, a long harangue of curses is grinded out through a clenched jaw as they speed away. She leans over, stroking his thigh.

“Don’t!” he sputters.

A few blocks away from the station he makes another sharp turn into a secluded alley, stops the car and just stares at the wheel, clutching it, knuckles whitening. He’s seeing red.

“Jack, what..”

He throws himself out of the car, marching away, chucking his hat off, raking one hand through his hair. Why? Why is he letting himself be so provoked by her, letting her get away with it? Why does he insist on _caring_ so bloody much?

 

Phryne watches as he’s pacing up and down the alley, cursing, ranting, hair on end, eyes practically throwing daggers at the ground. She reluctantly has to admit this steamed up Jack have her excited. He looks like he might bite, and that is just too tempting, against better judgement she jumps out of the car.

“Why can’t you, for once, operate according to plan?!” he yells at the brick wall.

“I saw an opportunity and I took it! You sh...”

“You could’ve got yourself bumped off!”

“I didn’t, I’m fine! We’re fine!”

“I’m not.” He shrugs, looking defeated.

“We’re safe, we’re both alive, and we’ve got some of their records which will help the case immensely. The end justifies the means?” She’s trying to bargain with him. He scoffs and tries to walk away when she catches his hand to place it on her chest, over her heart. “See, beats like a charm”.

Jack’s not able to distinguish what is what of anger, lust and fear ordering about hormones in his system, so he just snarls and lunges for her. She jumps the chance, crashing into him. He’s not prepared for the sheer power in her small frame, without much effort she’s wrapped her arms around his neck and hoisted herself up to leave his hips in a clinch with her thighs. All the while she’s kissing him efficiently. He tries not to think about what her strength and pliability might suggest for future activities, or how much he actually wishes for it to be future activities. If he thought he’s experienced her joie de vivre before, it’s nothing compared to the fervour she invests now. As to emphasise his thought, she manages to grind her pelvis down and some stray vowels escape them both.  Deciding that dropping her would probably be a mood killer, he backs them up against the car for support.

The sounds coming from her, they chase away all other thoughts than how he can lure another one from her. And another. Him palming a breast through her blouse has her tighten the grip of her thighs, a winding path of nibbling kisses down her neck causes her to purr and arch into him, making him light headed. One of her hands on his jaw urging his mouth back on hers. Her tongue sweeping in to find his, tasting him. Ending the kiss by catching his bottom lip between two teeth, tugging slightly as she whimpers and smirks simultaneously.

They share a brief pause, catching their breaths. Phryne relaxes her thighs grip and gingerly moves her legs down, placing her feet on not-so-solid ground. To be frank she’s a little shocked. The Inspector unleashed has revealed quite the roaring passion.

“Touch me?” she’s smoothing his lapels as if she’s asking them, Jack just nods and fumbles with the hem of her blouse, pulling it free from her trousers.

Should not. Two little words taking up so much space in his mind.  Not now though, now it seems he’s finally gone mad, she actually succeeded in driving him here. Where he doesn’t care one jot about the inappropriate location, timing or all other aspects he’d normally consider. He only cares about her skin under his hands and lips, just a while longer, _please._ About being responsible for her voicing pleased sighs and excited murmurs. His hand now travels up to her waist as he’s nuzzling her neck. On a whim he slides his other hand around her back, spinning her around to face the car.

“You’ll be quiet?” he whispers just behind her ear, and she can’t really tell if it’s a question or a demand, and it just arouses her that little bit more. She shivers and nods. Jack’s tracing her delicate neck with strong fingers, stroking her shoulders and down her arms, grasping her hands to place them on the roof of the car.

“Don’t move” his hands caressing their way back up to her shoulders, down her back, then following her waistband to a series of buttons at her side. Thankfully, his fingers surprise him and without complications her trousers are undone. The buttons on her tap pants pops free with similar ease. He hears her trying to steady her breathing, it assures him a bit and steadies his hands.  He moves one up under her blouse and camisole to a soft breast and pebbling nipple, the other one’s sneaking down, finding her damp and wanting. Damp is a slight understatement. The feeling of first her curls and then her wet folds under his hand have him moan in her hair. His fingers swirls their way over her sex, mapping her, trying to figure out by shivers and panting sighs where she wants his attentions the most. She removes one of her hands from the car to reach for his fly, Jacks grabs it quickly with a firm hand to plant it back on the roof.

“Uh, uh, I’m the one conducting this search, Miss Fisher” he accentuates his statement by circling her clit with his thumb. The resulting gasp from her has his core boiling, but he steels himself his fingers continuing to flirt with her cunt while the other hand is back on her breasts, alternating between them, lightly pinching a nipple every now and then.

“More” she puffs out with a raspy voice, and he decides an alleyway might not be the place for a drawn out manual assignation, so he obeys, now engaging both hands between her thighs. One hand working on her nub, sliding along her folds as the other dips into her, with one then two fingers. Both hands finding a matching rhythm. He feels her tension build, he emits a slow, hot breath over her ear, she shudders and clenches around his fingers. A sensation that, if he’d let it, would have him combust in his trousers on the spot. Imagine the dignity of that, he chuckles, however dignity seems a feeble thing to desire when you have a heaving Phryne Fisher at the mercy of your hands. She then starts to thrust, meeting his hands, being very close to release. Jack speeds up, catching up with her pace. With a beckoning gesture by the fingers stroking her inner walls, he pushes her over. She’s pressing one hand to her mouth, throwing out the other to find purchase, ending up knocking the wing mirror askew with noticeable force, breaking the glass in the process.

As ridiculous as it may be, Jack can’t help but feel flushed with pride, it’s been a long time, if ever,  since he was responsible for a manifest of satisfaction quite like that.

Coming back from her literally glass shattering climax, Phryne turns, plants both hands firmly on his chest trying to get grounded again. She looks into his eyes with this bare and enthralled expression he’ll never forget. She then turns them both, now pushing him into the side of the car. After a feather light kiss at the corner of his mouth, she lowers herself before him. Jack’s normally rather quick mind is dimmed by recent activities and a brief wonder crosses his mind if she’s dropped something or why she’s...oh...right.

“What are you...uhm?” he gestures vaguely at her hands now on his thighs.

“You are getting your share.”

“Oh” he tilts his head, but doesn’t protest, thank god. He just stares in disbelief as she traces his erection through his trousers, before she unbuttons the fly to pull him out, giving him a few strokes. The should-not’s are still gravely weakened, so he lets her go on. Watching as she fists him and then kisses her way up his cock. Her other hand gently cups his balls, fingers tickling him just behind them. This calls for a sharp intake of air but as he forgot to exhale before, the result is a stuttering release of air and profanities instead. She gazes up at him and the twinge of arousal in his gut is just mind boggling. Seems like that’s the theme for her performance. When she takes him in ever so slowly, and so deep, drawing lazy spirals with her tongue, he’s certain it’s just not his spine that curls but time as well. He thinks that this is too absurd, you don’t get to experience this, especially not while on _duty._ He’s afraid the intensity will have him implode, but he can’t take his eyes of her manoeuvres. She deftly has him balancing on the edge of a too strained sensory input, just to release him for a second, flashing him a smile with a carnal shadow. Just as he thinks that will actually kill him she tops it off, working his base with one hand in a twisting motion, licking a stripe up to his tip and then blowing a trail of cool air up around the head. He hisses, he’s aroused to a point where it feels like his manhood is screwed into a vice. Albeit a rather glorious vice. Pointing the tip of her tongue, she draws tiny, wet circles around the glans, before finally taking him in completely again. The ground ripples under his feet, and after she’s sucked him in three, four times while fondling his balls, a wave, or a couple, crashes over him, leaving him stunned by the force of it. Phryne stands up, her thumb and forefinger elegantly wiping the corners of her mouth, a gesture so charged Jack will remember it forever. She tucks him in, rebuttons first his and then her own trousers, and leans in to adjust his tie.

“You alright?” she asks with a sly grin.

“Yes, just trying not to drown.”

“In that deep, Jack?”

“Way over my head. You’re hopeless, you know?”

She laughs. “I am not! I’m full of hope and illicit possibilities and you love it!”

He curls his mouth in that manner only she recognises as a smile.

Her smile.


End file.
